I wish my jeans were smaller
that I would speak less about things I don’t know about.
Even with my size
I feel I carry such heavyweight;
In my words
or my expressions.
I walk with my head down
and I have a nice curve down my spine.
I’m always carrying a backpack
and my shoes are too tight.
I crash into strangers
because I think I take up too much space.
I don’t feel pretty when I wear my glasses;
I wear them anyway.
My hair’s getting long now
The weight of my head
Makes it pin straight
It goes right to hell.
My skull feels swollen
I can feel calcium trying to mix with oxygen.
I’ve learned to not say hello to people who aren’t worth a sliver of my time, or
More appropriately put;
A single strand
Of my silver stardust gorgeous hair.
I missed the night.
I smoked passion flower,
left a water bottle open in my bag,
slept with lipstick and glitter
for 12 hours and it’s still not enough.
You were in my dream–
at least a part of you was.
My childhood fish friend decided to move in with me.
It’s always dark now,
in every dream,
Blue, Black, Grey silvers of light
form the non-existing moon bounce off of puddles and trees.
I want to hide.
I want to be seen.
I don’t know which one I want more.
I am surrounded by vomit,
When did everything I write become so dark?
I was thinking about the Midwest.
White, orange, and black cars.
The color of the craft,
our New Year
Spotted on the first day of Summer.
Sometimes fresh starts aren’t always so fresh.
Sometimes they are hot and burning off scorching concrete.
Sometimes they are born on Midnight in the suburbs of Connecticut.
They sprinkled edible glitter on me.
How I wish I shined more,
How I wish someone would swallow me whole.
There are two styes in my eye.
They are weeping and oozing
I stopped wearing makeup
Somebody told me I look sick.
My top is see through and made of mesh
They told me they didn’t have the tummy for that.
I don’t either
but I can’t really see.